


Weapons

by SpinningLenny



Series: Vir Atish'an - The Way of Peace [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Pre-Relationship, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 11:47:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4959466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpinningLenny/pseuds/SpinningLenny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"True. Our chief weapon is subtlety and style."<br/>"That would be two weapons."<br/>"All right, two. Our <em>two</em> chief weapons are subtlety and style."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weapons

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [Tarysande](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tarysande/pseuds/tarysande) for being a wonderfully thorough and supportive beta reader ♥

"... Because no one expects us."

Cullen rounded the bookshelf to find the Inquisitor sitting cross-legged on a desk, with Dorian sprawling gracefully in the chair in front of her.

"Oh, Cullen! What brings you here?"

Felexa's face lit up when she spoke to him, and Cullen found himself returning the smile without intending to.

"Please forgive me if I'm interrupting--"

"Not at all, Commander," Dorian cut in with an inviting wave of his hand. "Please, do join us. Our esteemed leader is just explaining to me that no one expects the Inquisition."

"That's right!" She nodded, blond ponytail bobbing. "Because we're really subtle in our operations."

"Subtle." He thought back on reports featuring slain dragons, seized fortresses and inventive new ways of creating magical explosions. "Are you certain of that?"

"Yes! You could even say that subtlety is our chief weapon."

He was still trying to align that statement with reality when Dorian asked, "What about _style_?"

Felexa gave him a gracious nod.

"True. Our chief weapon is subtlety and style."

Cullen suppressed a sigh and decided to abandon all hope of steering the conversation in a productive direction. 

"That would be two weapons."

"All right, two. Our _two_ chief weapons are subtlety and style."

She appeared supremely pleased with herself, but he couldn't resist adding, "We _also_ have armies."

"Fine, fine. Our two-- _three_ chief weapons are subtlety, style and armies."

Dorian placed his hand on his heart in a theatrical gesture as he added, "And the power of friendship."

"You mean the power of not strangling each other day after day?" Cullen muttered, but the two mages ignored him.

"I love it. Our three chief--"

"Four," Cullen supplied.

"-- _Four_ chief weapons are subtlety, style, armies and the power of friendship."

For a moment, they all paused. Then Dorian shook his head.

"Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue."

Cullen couldn't quite keep the amusement out of his voice when he asked, "Is this going to be your new battle cry?"

Felexa grinned at him.

"Why not? Imagine charging into the fray shouting 'Behold the Inquisition! Our chief weapons are subtlety, style, armies and the power of friendship!'"

"I can... certainly imagine _you_ shouting that."

Dorian cocked his head with a frown.

"It's not exactly terrifying, though, is it? The armies, yes, but perhaps we might go with something a little more fearsome?"

"I suppose you're right. Something fearsome like ... apostates! Yes, that sounds good." Felexa regarded Cullen thoughtfully as she tried out the words, "Our chief weapons are armies, apostates and--"

"Alliteration?"

"You're not taking this seriously."

She stuck out her lower lip, but Dorian agreed with him.

"Actually, it does sound like something our Lady Ambassador might wield to devastating effect."

Felexa shook her head and said, "Yes, but still. I'd rather fight an ancient evil with a bunch of apostates than--"

"I'd rather not be included in a 'bunch', thank you."

"Dread Wolf's balls, Dorian, you're _not_ helping! What's wrong with a bunch, now?"

He gave a disdainful little shrug.

"It's just not a very elegant word, is it? Surely there has to be a better expression for a group of apostates, if you must use that word at all."

"Well, I'm not going to call myself an altus, so you better get used to going by apostate. And anyway, how about a party of apostates? We're always having fun when we're out and about, after all."

"I think we need to compare our definitions of 'fun' some time. And in any case,I'm not sure anything involving Solas can be called a party."

"Oh, I don't know. I bet he parties like an animal in the Fade. But you're right, there has to be a better word."

She turned to Cullen and he obliged.

"A terror of apostates?"

She snickered under her breath, looking at him with exaggeratedly wide eyes.

"Commander, are you genuinely calling me a terror? What have I ever done to deserve such a cruel designation?"

"Would you prefer the list in alphabetical or chronological order?"

This time she actually laughed, and Cullen felt a foolish flush of pride until Dorian spoke again.

"And really, wouldn't that rather apply to blood mages?"

Cullen kept his voice carefully neutral when he asked, "Remind me of the difference?"

"Well, for one, Vivienne isn't a blood mage."

Felexa leaned forward on the desk and cut in, "But she's also not an apostate."

"Technically speaking, now that the Circles have fallen, we're all apostates."

She crossed her arms and gave Dorian a haughty look.

"Maybe, but _some_ of us were apostates even before it was popular."

She cocked her head as though listening to something Cullen couldn't hear. Then she said, "No, but you would be if it didn't cut you off from the Fade, wouldn't you?"

There was a moment of silence, then Felexa gave a surprised snort of laughter.

"No, the parties are _not_ mandatory, even though they are excellent."

Another pause, and he could barely make out Solas's voice murmuring below, even though he couldn't understand the words. Felexa, however, appeared to find them agreeable.

"See? That practically makes you an honorary blood mage. Which is almost as good as a real blood mage, right, Cullen?"

Cullen gritted his teeth to hold back the impulsive 'This is not a joking matter' and clamped down on the old coil of revulsion digging into his gut. This was neither the time nor the place to get into that argument again. His hands ached for the reassuring grip of his sword, but he clasped them behind his back and took a slow breath to clear his head.

"If by 'good' you mean 'bad', then yes, I suppose it is."

He saw her eyes narrow a fraction, but thankfully Dorian distracted her.

"Well then, if you don't want to be called a terror, what else would you suggest?"

She drummed her fingers on the desk beneath her, then her face brightened.

"How about armies? Armies of apostates. I like that."

Dorian shook his head.

"Admittedly it sounds grand, but there are still only four of us. Which barely constitutes one army, let alone several."

"Yes, but we're awesome. Each one of us kicks enough ass to qualify as an army ourselves."

She turned to Cullen and beamed at him.

"'Behold the Inquisition and its awesome ass-kicking apostate armies!' Doesn't that strike fear into your heart?"

"I am positively quaking in my boots."

Dorian raised one well-groommed hand to pat Felexa's knee.

"Rest assured, love, if you ever introduce me like that, I will walk away and never look back."

"All right then, how about _attractive_ awesome ass-kicking apostate armies?"

"Slightly better, but where does that leave you?"

She untangled her legs long enough to poke his thigh with her bare toes.

"I'll have you know that among my own kind, my appearance is considered entirely tolerable."

"I'll take your word for it."

Cullen took a breath to assure her that she most definitely counted among the ranks of the attractive, but luckily his brain caught up with his mouth in time to prevent him making a fool of himself. More of a fool, in any case. Before he could think of something more appropriate to say, the Inquisitor turned her attention to him.

"Enjoyable as this is, I'm sure the Commander didn't come here just for our scintillating conversation. Is there anything I can do for you?"

For a moment he was tempted to say no--between the grueling march through the mountains and the frantic scramble of turning Skyhold into a habitable estate, it felt like weeks since he had seen her truly at ease and enjoying herself. But there was still so much to do, and he could see in her eyes that her mind was already switching paces.

"There are some matters I would like to discuss when you find the time."

"Meaning now, I guess?"

She nodded, and he could see the infinitesimal straightening as she slipped back into her role of Inquisitor.

"I'll be right along. I promised Dagna to bring her these books, so I'll see you in your office in twenty minutes?"

"I'd appreciate it."

"All right then. Bye, Dorian!"

She tucked the two books in question under her arm, slid off the desk and before he knew what was happening skipped to the center railing and vaulted over it. Cullen was halfway to the railing, wordless shout stuck in his throat, when his mind registered the sound of a soft thump and quick footsteps retreating below. He leaned over just in time to see her disappear from the rotunda and had to forcefully instruct his lungs to resume breathing.

"She always does that."

"What?"

He turned around to find Dorian watching him with unconcealed amusement.

"The jumping. She always leaves that way. I have tried to introduce her to the idea of stairs going both up _and_ down, but it hasn't taken yet. Evidently it's a Dalish thing, or so I'm told."

Of course. All the climbing of trees and... scaling of... rocks, possibly? Not that he had much of an idea what the Dalish did to fill their days, but somehow the idea of their Inquisitor climbing up and leaping down the highest structures she could find made a lot of sense. Cullen made a mental note to add another extension to his daily prayers--'please do not let her break her neck just because she couldn't be bothered to take the stairs' would probably cover it, though he might have to tweak the wording a little.

"Was there anything else?"

He turned his attention back to the Tevinter mage watching him with easy confidence bred from generations of wealth and privilege. He resisted the urge to straighten his armour under the scrutiny and was about to take his leave when his treacherous mind reminded him of how Ambassador Josephine had repeatedly, and with increasingly less subtlety, suggested he get to know the members of the Inquisition better. Well then. Time to advance and scout the battlefield.

"Are the accommodations at Skyhold sufficient to your needs, or do you require anything?"

The mage's brows rose a fraction and Cullen almost apologised for the clumsy question.

"To be quite honest, my bed is an imposition, this library hardly deserves the name, and the bathing facilities are a thing best not spoken of. But I suppose I shall persevere in the interest of our noble cause."

Well. So much for the power of friendship.

"I shall make note of it."

He turned to leave, but Dorian's voice stopped him.

"Commander, I hear you play chess?"

He hesitated, but the question seemed innocent enough.

"I do, when I find the time."

"Glad to hear it. And is there any chance you might indulge me in a game some time?"

He turned back and for the first time noticed a sliver of wary expectation showing through the man's composed exterior.

"I believe I could arrange that."

And just as quickly it was gone again and replaced by the usual detached amusement.

"Excellent. Well, then, I suppose you must get back to your work, Commander, while this one-man apostate army shall have to find other matters to occupy himself."

He tried to resist, but temptation proved too strong.

"Awesome and ass-kicking ones, no doubt."

The mage's brows shot up in surprise before his expression turned to genuine entertainment.

" _And_ attractive. Mustn't forget that."

Cullen merely shook his head and left.


End file.
